


Ripples Upon the Tide

by Shadaras



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Character Study, Gen, Gungan Society, Indigenous rights, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Padmé is crowned Queen Amidala, and sits in meditation in the sacred waters of Ma-Urru. There, she hears a woman's voice speaking to her. That's strange enough. Even stranger, the voice sounds like it might be her own.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala & Jar Jar Binks, Padmé Amidala & Naboo Royal Handmaiden(s), Padmé Amidala & Padmé Amidala
Comments: 27
Kudos: 85
Collections: Fandom 5K 2020





	Ripples Upon the Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosestone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosestone/gifts).



> The time travel elements of this story were inspired by rosestone's prompt "Peggy Sue time-travel" (wherein the time traveler goes back into the body of their past self) and _A Memory Called Empire_ 's imago technology.
> 
> Elements of Padmé's coronation were inspired by _The Goblin Emperor_.
> 
> Some more thoughts about politics and Gungans in the end notes.

Padmé Naberrie—no, _Amidala_ , she had to get used to the royal name; she was no longer Padmé Naberrie—knelt in the sacred waters of Ma-Urru, the Royal Womb. Her neck ached with the weight of the crown, despite her practice in the months leading up to the election. But this, too, was part of the ceremony: _Heavy is the head that bears the crown_ , Padmé thought grimly, _and strong are the shoulders of the state_.

Outside Ma-Urru, in the lesser caverns where the spring’s warm waters flowed, her handmaids waited. She’d gotten to know them in the weeks since the election finalised. Sabé. Eirtaé. Saché. Rabé. Yané. Captain Panaka and Governor Bibble had searched for and then screened so many young women to find them, and Padmé herself was torn between delight at this group who she was—by necessity—becoming fast friends with, and horror at how much they were giving up to stand beside her. They’d given up their _names_.

(But, then, so had she.)

Padmé breathed, and drew her mind back to the chiming waters; some ancient act had tuned the spring’s well to tap out a hypnotic melody. She let it flow to the back of her mind as she focused: She was to contemplate the rigours of Queendom and how she could keep herself centered and strong in the midst of so many external influences. Her handmaids were part of that—they gave her a set of friends and allies who she knew must be devoted to her interests, though the balance of power was such that she had to understand and respect their desires and biases as well.

The water flowed around her, and Padmé let her hands dip into its smoothness. She cupped her hands into the water and raised it up to her mouth for a single sip. Legends said that once, the waters of Ma-Urru had spoken to the newly-coronated. If it had happened within the last three hundred years, there was no record of it; either it had not happened, or those the waters spoke to kept their secrets well. Padmé had loved the old legends, but as her advisory council had prepared her for this time, they had all taken care to remind her that it was simply rumor and legend, nothing substantial.

Padmé drank the water, and as it slid down her throat, she heard a voice in her head.

 _«Oh! I— The Force whispered to me that my time was not yet over. This is not what I’d thought it meant.»_ The speaker was a woman, older than her, with a familiar voice. _«But then, the Jedi always say the ways of the Force are mysterious. So. I cannot tell you everything, but I can tell you this: There is a war coming, and if we act now, we may prevent its worst tragedies. Will you aid me?»_

“Who are you?” Padmé whispered, her voice echoing in the otherwise-silent cavern.

 _«Oh, my dear.»_ It felt like a ghostly hand stroked her hair, which should be impossible with the royal crown but if this was the Force, many things that otherwise wouldn’t be possible could be. _«I’m you.»_

Padmé stared into the water she knelt in, which still rippled faintly from when she’d drunk from it. The only face there was her own, young and round and painted formally to reflect the station she represented. “Me?” she asked, seeing her own lips move. “How—?”

A sigh gusted through her body, and Padmé felt the tiredness and pain that went alongside it. _«The Force does not explain itself; or if it does, only Jedi mystics understand. This is your coronation. I had my coronation thirteen years ago.»_ A hesitation, and then silence filled Padmé’s head. It should be normal, but there was an absence in the silence that felt… not wrong, precisely, but uncomfortable nonetheless. Padmé felt at it, like she had done for loose teeth, seeking purchase or at least the shape of the discomfort that surrounded this Force-spirit.

There was a place, near the back of her skull, where it seemed centered. It felt akin to when she’d woken up from minor surgery to a sore numbness defined by knowing that there _was_ pain but being unable to feel the center of it. The sensation was echoed, more softly, at her navel; that felt more like menstrual cramps, but she knew that couldn’t be the reason for the phantom pain. It hadn’t been there until the Force-spirit had arrived, after all.

Padmé bit the inside of her lip, promised herself she’d look up more information about the Force and those who lingered within it, and then asked, “What happened?”

 _«I’m not entirely sure,»_ the spirit admitted, voice quiet and fettered with— Padmé thought it was grief, but the spirit was doing a good job hiding it. _«I recall medical droids telling me that I had to be placed into a medical coma until they could acquire a large enough bacta tank. And then the Force offered me a chance to find another ending. I took it.»_

Padmé sighed. She might still be a child as many measure age, but she’d been in politics long enough to know a not-answer when she heard one. “How much _can_ you tell me?” she asked, instead of trying to pry further into this not-her’s life.

 _«For now?»_ A pause, and Padmé’s body thrummed with focus. It was disconcerting, but not bad; almost like a sourceless cat’s purr. _A little shift that I believe will bring positive change: The native people of Naboo are the Gungans. We took this planet from them, and they retreated to the oceans. Find them. Ally with them. This is their planet, and they deserve to have a voice._

“They’ll look kindly enough upon us?” Padmé had been taught about the Gungans in school, just a little. History said that they had been barely tribal when humans arrived, and had fled into the seas, never to be heard from again. Occasionally, fishers would catch glimpses of them, but they never tried to communicate.

Hesitation. Padmé shook her head. “I understand, if you’re worried about having too much of an influence,” she said, very carefully. “But the Force sent you to me. It must believe that your presence is of use. I don’t think Gungans would be kindly disposed towards us.”

 _«They won’t be.»_

“What changed that, for you?”

The Force-spirit laughed. _«A chance encounter; I doubt you’ll be able to replicate it. But gifts and respect and humbling yourself before them will go a long way towards beginning to forge a true alliance.»_

“Then I shall do so.” Padmé closed her eyes, settling herself with the pure physicality of her lungs expanding and the water gentle against her legs. “If I am supposed to be the Queen of _Naboo_ in its wholeness, then of course I must take this first step in reconciliation.”

Around her, the waters seemed to warm in fondness and appreciation. Inside her, the Force-spirit’s presence seemed to wane, fading into the background of her mind.

“Wait.” Padmé lifted a hand, as if that would matter to a non-physical being. “Is there something I can call you? That isn’t your—our—name?”

The spirit laughed. _«Sister, or cousin, or—»_ She paused, and Padmé felt her contemplation, and how careful she was when she said, _«Berry, if you wish.»_

Their childhood nickname. Padmé felt tears prickle at the edge of her eyes, and carefully blinked to try and contain them. She’d been Berry—she’d been small and sweet and round, and berries were her favorite food—and called her older sister Lala because she couldn’t say Sola very well. Her family had only stopped calling her by that name when she’d joined the Apprentice Legislators at eight, because she’d said it was too babyish for a politician.

At the time, she’d meant it. Now, thinking about it, she wished she hadn’t been so adamant.

Berry smiled, and Padmé could feel her warmth inside her forehead. She swallowed, and said, “Thank you, Cousin.”

 _«I’ll be with you,»_ Berry said, fading again, _«just as the Force is. Always.»_

Padmé nodded, even as the grotto seemed to dim again into the normal soothing bioluminescence of Ma-Urru’s heart. She tried to settle her mind, to focus again on the duties of queen, but all she could think about was the promise Berry had made to her, and how sad she’d seemed as she made it. “We’ll keep this from happening again,” she whispered, swearing it to Ma-Urru and herself twice-over. “I don’t know what brought you to me, but I’m not going to die feeling like my life is an injustice that must be righted. We’ll find a way through this, together.”

Neither Berry nor the waters responded, but Padmé’s heart eased nonetheless.

* * *

Three days into being Queen, Padmé was lying face-down on her desk after banishing everyone—even her handmaidens—from her office. She needed peace and quiet to be able to think through the decisions everyone was placing at her feet, especially since everyone’s chatter and opinions were giving her a headache. Berry had retreated an hour ago, wise and more intimately connected to Padmé’s moods than the rest of her aides and advisors.

The biggest issue at hand—the one generating all the arguments—was, predictably, figuring out how one sends diplomats to a group notoriously well-hidden and stand-offish. Padmé hadn’t been able to tell them anything _useful_ about how to approach the Gungans, beyond how important it was and that she was willing to bend her knee as to an equal to whoever the Gungan leaders were. For instance, they had no idea what the Gungan leadership system was, nor did they know where to look beyond “The ocean”.

Padmé rubbed her temples morosely. She hadn’t expected being Queen to be easy, but she’d hoped that she’d be able to more directly create change than in previous roles. Instead, it was just a different kind of bureaucracy—with her placed to hear every single element, whether directly or in summation—that she had to finagle even the most well-liked idea through. Simple things—approving further school funding, agreeing to a planetary tour to ensure all the outlying regions had a chance to meet her, confirming press releases—she could just sign and agree to. Everything else required multiple meetings and comm discussions and she’d known that, she really had, but somehow she’d hoped that being Queen would help.

Regardless, it was a surprise and a blessing that the idea of crafting an alliance with the Gungans was well-supported, even by those most skeptical of Ma-Urru’s legendary powers. As Padmé understood it, the main reason none of the previous governmental teams had tried to make peace with the Gungans was because nobody had expected them to be either organized enough or willing enough to make the effort—the idea that the native people of Naboo should have a say in Naboo’s galactic life was very easy to agree with.

The _problem_ was that everyone had a different idea of how to go about contacting them.

Graf Zapalo, the Minister of Science, had the pitch Padmé favored: Beginning in the areas where fishers and sailors had seen Gungans in recent history, slowly trawl through the seas broadcasting a message of friendship. Periodically, to ensure the Gungans understood this was a message of goodwill in truth, drop a neutral-buoyancy bundle of food and further information on Naboo’s land-bound society. “Don’t add trackers,” Zapalo had added, forcefully. “We want them to trust us.”

That stipulation had set off another round of debate about whether the Gungans were ever going to contact them based on this, or if they would need to reach out themselves first. Privately, Padmé suspected that the Gungans would take quite some time to win over, but there wasn’t any rush; moving too fast would just scare them off even more, if they were at all sensible. In the back of her mind, Berry whispered amused agreement, but didn’t say anything more about the circumstances that had led the Gungans of her time-place to ally themselves with the land-dwellers.

Padmé had stopped expecting her to do so, honestly; Berry didn’t seem to want to say much at all, content to just watch and help Padmé navigate the palace and its people. Rarely anything big, just a reminder of which turning led where, or that Governor Bibble’s favorite snacks were candied vweilu nuts, or a reminder that a particular piece of legislation had been mentioned to her earlier. Helpful little things, but also the kinds of things her handmaidens could do just as well—though Berry was in her brain, and so Padmé could take her advice seamlessly and without anyone knowing there was any advice being offered.

The office holoprojector chimed, and Padmé pushed herself up. _«I haven’t forgotten an appointment, have I?»_ she asked Berry, already turning to check that her makeup was presentable enough for informal conversation. This hour had been set aside for the meeting she’d banished everyone from; the Queen did not need full formal makeup for such things, but expectations were different for conversations with those outside the Palace walls.

Berry shrugged internally, mild concern mixing with curiosity. _«Very few people have personal comm access to this office. Anyone who does shouldn’t be scandalized by you not having your full face.»_

_«Very comforting,»_ Padmé replied dryly. She squared her shoulders, stacked the flimsi scattered across her desk more neatly, and pressed the button to accept the call.

As soon as the holograph resolved, Padmé felt an overwhelming shock of revulsion so strong it took her a second to see who the caller even was. When she did, it became clear that the revulsion wasn’t hers, but Berry’s: The person calling her was Senator Palpatine. One of the first political events Padmé remembered seeing, when she was seven and starting to think about going into politics, was his inauguration. He’d seemed to symbolise everything good about politics as he talked about helping build a brighter future for the galactic community through coalition and compromise. How Berry had gone from that to hatred and nausea at the merest glimpse of his face—Padmé didn’t know what that was about, but she wanted to know.

“Senator,” Padmé said, shoving her sense of Berry’s feelings down as far as she could and keeping her calm politician’s smile on her face. “I wasn’t expecting your call.”

He smiled, and Berry whispered _«Look at his eyes,»_ and Padmé saw how—even in holo—the smile didn’t reach them at all. “Padmé! I just had to call and check in with you; I know you’re busy, but this was the first time I had where my schedule was open at an hour that wasn’t truly atrocious for you in Theed and I thought—Well, if she’s too busy to talk, I can just leave a message.”

“Senator,” Padmé repeated, with emphasis. Even if Berry hadn’t been seething over his use of her familiar name, she would have found that frustrating. “It is good to hear from our planetary representative in the Senate. I have seen your reports.” She had. They were so filled with cheerful fluff and filler that she’d been given them alongside an edited version that only had the actual content. “I am glad to hear that Naboo stands in support of fair taxation policies.”

There was a pause. It was longer than necessary for the transmission’s distance. Then Senator Palpatine laughed. “I wasn’t calling about _my_ work! I’m glad to know you’re keeping up with it; I know it’s so hectic when you first enter a new position. Especially when you’re working on a large project! Speaking of which…” Senator Palpatine leaned in a little, face going serious and a little conspiratorial. “What’s this I hear about the Gungans?”

 _«Don’t,»_ Berry hissed frantically. _«He doesn’t need to be involved.»_

Padmé nodded, in response to both. “Naboo is known for being a humanitarian force in the galaxy.” She smiled, honestly, letting her youth shine through. “How can we advocate for sentient rights elsewhere if we don’t do the work back home?” She hesitated, then added, “My council seems to think it unlikely they’ll respond at all, of course, but I still think it’s important to try.”

Berry grumbled indistinctly. Padmé thought it was because she didn’t like seeming so uncertain, but Padmé knew the effect of her youth on the elder statesmen of politics. Even if they disagreed with what she was trying to do, they simply saw it as the foibles of youth and disregarded it. If they agreed with her at all, of course, they tended to act in support of her more strongly than they otherwise would. Unless Senator Palpatine was far cannier than any other politician Padmé had seen, she’d soon learn where he stood.

 _«He’s very clever,»_ Berry admitted. _«But he tends to like mentoring the young.»_

“Of course, of course.” Senator Palpatine nodded and sighed. “Please let me know if there’s any way I can assist, Padmé. I know it’s a planetary issue, but we have friends in the Senate who may have practice in this type of action.”

Padmé smiled and bowed slightly. “I will certainly keep that in mind, Senator.”

“But you’re busy, I’m sure.” This time, Padmé heard an edge to his voice that she was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. “Thank you for your time, Padmé.”

“Thank you for yours, Sheev,” Padmé replied, and the holo stayed just long enough for her to catch his shock at hearing his first name from her lips. _Good,_ she thought savagely; let him feel uncomfortable at presumptive familiarity, just as he’d been doing to her.

 _«Do you trust him?»_ Berry’s revulsion had hardened into anger, it felt like, and the intensity of her words told Padmé how much this mattered to her.

Padmé pressed her fingers into her temples. She did not want a headache from Berry’s emotions boiling over. _«He does his job. I don’t know why he’s so concerned about this.»_

_«Is he good at his job?»_

_«He’s good at obfuscating what his job even is.»_ Padmé sighed and pulled a blank sheet of flimsi over. She scribbled a quick note to herself to request a full tally of Senator Palpatine’s activities. Easy to justify as wanting to know more about Naboo’s political actions. _«What did he do to you?»_

There was a long, guttural silence before Berry finally said, _«He led democracy to its death.»_

It felt like all the air had been driven out of her lungs. Padmé curled into her chair, stunned. She couldn’t form any coherent thoughts; the overarching questions of _What?_ and _Why_ echoing through her gut were feelings more than words.

 _«If I told you how you wouldn’t believe me,»_ Berry said softly. It felt like she kissed Padmé’s forehead, a tingling petal-light touch. _«But that outcome is something I am trying to avoid.»_

Padmé nodded numbly. She would do the same. That wasn’t surprising; they were the same person. But. _«He’s in the_ Senate _.»_

_«He’s in a position of power.»_ Berry sighed, and it swirled through Padmé’s body like the last breath of a storm. _«Unfortunately, he wants more.»_

_«When did_ you _learn this?»_

_«Too late.»_ Regret leaked through every word Berry spoke. _«So please, Padmé; don’t let him close.»_

Padmé nodded. She didn’t want this Senator Palpatine to be the same as Berry’s, but she knew there were enough similarities between her and Berry that it was unlikely this Senator Palpatine would be a truly good and kind person if Berry’s were not. She rubbed her face carefully, wishing the knots of tension coiling through her skull could be undone by such an action. It was symbolic; it couldn’t be anything else without risking the symbolism the rest of her face spoke of. “We will persevere,” she muttered to herself, straightening into a stretch. “We must.”

Berry hummed agreement underneath her skin, and Padmé sent out a message to reconvene her council. There was still work that had to be done. If she had to force it through by will alone, then—Padmé smiled—she would do just that.

* * *

In the end, a simple vote was enough, and Minister Zapalo’s suggestion had been implemented.

Most of the council found it a relief to be doing normal government business again, Padmé learned; the Queen had the right to bring up any topic she desired, but that didn’t mean the Council had to like it. They seemed fairly settled in their bureaucratic ways, though she could see their kindness in wanting to help her achieve her goals. It was frustrating, being sidelined again simply for not having the depth of knowledge the adults did, but Berry refused to help feed her the answers.

 _«You must learn on your own,»_ Berry said, after one particularly frustrating session centered on the intersection of three different tax laws. _«You cannot rely solely on me.»_

_«I know that,»_ Padmé replied, frustration seething through her words. _«But there’s just so much!»_

_«You don’t need to know it all yourself.»_ Berry sounded amused, though Padmé couldn’t imagine why. _«You have Sabé, and Eirtaé, and all the rest.»_

Padmé had paused, then, and said a number of words she didn’t think her parents wanted her to know, and which her council politely pretended they didn’t think she knew. _«I should know that,»_ she said, after. _«But with you here—»_

Berry sighed. _«I’m a fluke. The Force sent me, and the Force could take me back.»_

_«So don’t rely on you,»_ Padmé filled in. She leaned on one of the grand balconies of Theed Palace, looking at the city beneath her. _«It’s so easy to do.»_

_«We do know each other very well,»_ Berry said, amusement palpable. _«It comes of being born of the same parents—or close enough to make no difference.»_

_«I’ll go talk to them,»_ Padmé promised. _«But I don’t know what I’d do without you.»_

_«You’d manage,»_ Berry murmured. _«Just as I did.»_

* * *

It took two months of sailing the seas, leaving behind a trail of messages and gifts with no strings or expectation of response, before their efforts bore fruit.

Padmé was studying Naboo’s original—and primarily accidental—colonization with her handmaidens, letting Sabé bear the brunt of being Queen Amidala with Saché by her side, when a priority comm arrived. Eirtaé scrambled to answer it, while Padmé looked at Rabé and Yané. The other two girls’ expressions mirrored the curiosity and worry Padmé felt; the only matter they knew of which could result in a priority comm was the search for Gungans, but there was always the possibility that something new could emerge.

Eirtaé answered the comm, tall and proud and— _young,_ Padmé thought; _we all look so young_. Berry hummed amusement, and Padmé realised where she’d gotten that idea from. If their thoughts were tangling together like that, uncontrolled and unintentional, Padmé wondered what that would mean in the future. But she couldn’t think about that now, not when the holo had resolved, fuzzy and static-washed, into a woman wearing a warm, slouchy hat with a captain’s insignia affixed.

“My Queen,” she said ( _«Captain Gira Szygine of_ Lotus Blooming _,»_ Berry murmured in reminder), “we have made contact with a Gungan.”

Before Eirtaé could finish glancing at her, Padmé shook her head minutely. She had to be able to share this with them. They’d had long conversations about what was necessary, what was important, and what was desired when it came to finding the Gungans. She trusted Eirtaé. She had to.

Eirtaé nodded, and drew a steadying breath. “Well done, Captain.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “Is this Gungan amenable to meeting with us?”

Captain Szygine glanced over her shoulder with an expression that was too subtle to read through the hazy connection. “Jar Jar Binks,” she said, words slower and clearer. “Will you talk to my boss?”

Berry laughed softly, but happily, in Padmé’s head. _«Of course it’s him,»_ she said fondly. _«He’s always had a knack for being in the most interesting places.»_

_«You know him?»_ Padmé asked as she stood, her other two handmaidens standing with her. There was no way any of them were focusing on Naboo’s history when more history was being made just now.

 _«Of course,»_ Berry said as they moved behind Eirtaé, flanking her just out of the holocomm’s range. _«He was the first Gungan I met, too.»_

Naboo had records of Gungans, of course. They were amphibian, something like frogs or axolotls, and as varied in shape and size as humans. They swam more gracefully than they walked, one of the original settlers had written, and that was part of why it had seemed so easy to say that humans might be allowed the land at least in part, since the Gungans so clearly had the waters all to themselves. It might not have worked out, but Padmé understood the reasoning.

Padmé had planned on asking Berry more questions, but then Jar Jar Binks came into holo range, and she was too fascinated by the reality of a Gungan—even on a low-res holo—to come up with anything she thought Berry might actually answer. Tall, was the first thing Padmé thought. Then, _Are those ears or fins?_ as she understood what was going on in the facial area. There was a rustling noise, as Captain Szygine adjusted the holo to focus higher.

Then Jar Jar Binks waved, and made an expression Padmé hoped was a smile, and said, “Hello!” in perfectly comprehensible—if heavily accented—Galactic Standard.

“Greetings,” Eirtaé said, and while Padmé could hear her slight hesitation, she didn’t think Jar Jar Binks would notice. “My name is Queen Amidala.”

“Queen!” Jar Jar Binks swept a long and flopping bow that Padmé thought ended up with one of his ear-flaps slapping him in the face, by its trajectory; his face was out of frame again by the time he completed the bow. “Me-sa Jar Jar Binks, of Otoh Gunga. You-sa been sending messages, and me-sa volunteered to see what you-sa wanted!”

“We wish to meet with the Gungans, in the hopes of making a treaty between our two peoples.” They’d practiced this part, figured out exactly what they wanted to say. It only made it slightly easier. “Do you have the ability to speak for your people, or to bring us into a meeting with those who do?”

Jar Jar Binks waved his head back and forth, clearly thinking. “Me-sa not very good at talking!”

 _«He’s better than he thinks,»_ Berry said. Her excitement buzzed beneath Padmé’s skin, almost unbearable. _«But he’s young.»_

“But okay!” Jar Jar Binks planted his hands on his hips. “Me-sa will meet with Queen Amidala and carry you-sa words to Boss Nass of Otoh Gunga! He-sa will listen.”

“Excellent.” Eirtaé smiled. “Captain? Where is the best place for us to meet you? We do not wish for this to be public.”

“Delasma?” Captain Szygine reappeared; her face was much lower than Jar Jar’s, and barely in the frame. “The swamp outskirts should be navigable.”

Eirtaé glanced back, and Padmé nodded affirmation. “It shall be done,” Eirtaé said formally. “When can you be there?”

“Thirty-six hours from now, safely and without drawing attention.”

“We shall be there,” Eirtaé said. “Jar Jar Binks, our thanks to you. We look forward to meeting in person.”

Jar Jar Binks bowed again, and Captain Szygine ducked out of the way of his ear-flaps. “Me-sa looking forward too!”

The frame readjusted, and Captain Szygine bowed. “Until then, my Queen,” she said, and cut the connection.

There was a moment of silence, and then Yané shrieked, “We did it!” and punched the air, and then they were all laughing and hugging each other. Padmé pressed her face against Eirtaé’s shoulder, squeezing her tight and trying to explain how happy she was and how glad she was of Eirtaé’s support, and Rabé and Yané were dancing, and even Berry was quietly but solidly joyful and warm against Padmé’s heart.

Padmé wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed before one of Panaka’s guards poked their head in and said, “The captain’s wondering about the ruckus.”

“We have made contact with a Gungan,” Padmé said formally, letting her handmaidens array themselves around her more properly. “And we shall be meeting this Gungan anon.”

The guard sighed visibly. “What arrangements do we need to make for your security, my lady?”

Padmé did not make a face. She’d forgotten, for a moment, the trials of bureaucracy. But she told them, and the wheels began turning, and it might be dragging but she’d made a deal and they would be at Delasma by the appointed time.

Things were, slowly but surely, going to change.

* * *

Meeting Jar Jar Binks himself was almost anticlimactic. Padmé understood instantly why her other-self liked him so much; beneath his gangly uncertainty on land and his lack of self-confidence lay both a sharp brain and a truly good heart. Padmé couldn’t quite figure out where he fit into Gungan society ( _«He’s the son of a high-ranked general. However, since he’s not a warrior, he’s looked down upon in their society,»_ Berry eventually told her, once they were back in Theed), but he was confident in his connections to the highest-ranking officials.

None of them could make any guess when Jar Jar Binks would return from Otoh Gunga with Boss Nass’ answer. None of them even knew where Otoh Gunga was—well, Berry knew; she just wasn’t going to tell a Gungan secret—and Jar Jar Binks had taken the recording of their conversation (wherein Jar Jar Binks had asked very good questions about Queen Amidala’s intentions, even if he’d framed them with “Me-sa not sure, but-” and “Well, you-sa say that, but-” and, at his most blunt, “How we-sa gonna know you-sa telling the truth?”), made sure it was waterproof, and then jumped straight into the deep waters and disappeared.

Padmé spent the next week trying to focus on everyday tasks and failing. She wasn’t the only one; all her handmaidens were showing signs of fatigue from trying to pay attention to five things at once. Sabé finally snapped and set up a rotation, so that one of them was always awake and at the comms. If Boss Nass responded by comm—and Queen Amidala had given Jar Jar one, with the priority line at Theed Palace programmed in—they would be ready.

None of them expected that, ten days after they’d last seen him, Jar Jar Binks himself would walk into Theed Palace without a care.

Padmé got the alert in the middle of her public audience hours. After the president of Theed University left, not very satisfied but at least having been heard, Sabé tapped her arm. Padmé looked at her, and Sabé murmured, “Jar Jar Binks is here.”

“We will see him,” Padmé said, automatically. There wasn’t a question, in either her mind or Berry’s, about that. “Will he come here, or shall we go to him?”

Sabé looked at a damp-seeming guard, who bowed and said, “My Queen. The—er, that is, Jar Jar Binks is detained at the waterfall overlook. He was in an unknown vessel, and we are unsure how he got it there.”

“Gungans do have technology,” Padmé said, rising to her feet. “And they certainly have reason to know the waters of Naboo better than us. We will go to him, to apologize for your conduct in confining him. We did not know he would come in this way, or else we would have warned Captain Panaka.” She turned to the court, and said, more loudly, “We have received word of an important diplomatic communique we must receive immediately and personally. We apologize for shortening our public time. We will make it up to you, as soon as we can.”

The courtiers bowed in unison. Padmé did not look at them as she strode out of the audience hall, Saché at her left hand and Sabé at her right. The guard—Lieutenant Raishi—led them to her skimmer, and drove them to the waterfall overlook. Unsurprisingly, there was a cluster of citizens peering at the Gungan conveyance—a sleek pod with a propeller that looked like a jellyfish, and couldn’t carry more than a handful of people; in this case, it only bore one—and the Gungan inside.

Padmé had not tried to hide that she was attempting to contact the Gungans. She hadn’t publicized it, either, but rumour had a way of spreading. In Theed, at least, she knew that a majority of the populace was aware of her goals, even if they didn’t expect her to succeed. Seeing a Gungan in the midst of the capital city must be meaningful for something in the populace’s minds; Padmé was sure she’d hear about it in a report this evening, if not sooner.

For all that Lt. Raishi had said they were containing the Gungan, Jar Jar Binks seemed very cheerful and completely unaware that he was being contained in the water. This might, Padmé thought dryly, be due to him being completely comfortable where he was. He was waving at the people watching him, and saying, “Hello!” very loudly. If any of her people were responding in kind, Padmé couldn’t hear it. But she smiled; perhaps Berry’s fondness had seeped into her, but she thought that she was simply fond of the man herself now.

The crowd parted before her, and Padmé walked onto the overlook proper accompanied by only her handmaidens as guards. “Jar Jar!” she called, and he immediately turned towards her with a smile. Carefully, he started moving his ship towards her, until they were separated by only a small stretch of land and the overlook’s railing. “We did not expect you. We are sorry we could not greet you in a more formal circumstance.”

“No trouble, no trouble!” Jar Jar waved his hands wildly. “Me-sa thinks your city is very pretty! Not as nice as Otoh Gunga, of course, but very shiny! Lots of friendly people!” He turned and waved again at the citizens, and Padmé smiled.

“Jar Jar, do you have a message from Boss Nass?” she asked. She wanted to keep her queen’s formality, but it was hard with someone who had no use for it himself.

“Oh, yes!” Jar Jar straightened and stilled, taking a very formal position. Clearly, and with what Padmé suspected had to be something of an impression of Boss Nass’ voice, he said, “Let the Queen meet with us! We-sa will not come to her palace. She-sa will not come to ours. We-sa will meet on sacred grounds.” Jar Jar paused, then added in his own voice, “Me-sa not know what that place is.”

“Did Boss Nass say I should name the place?”

Jar Jar shook his head. “He-sa said, Queen Amidala knows the place. She-sa been there. Stolen grounds, but our sacred grounds first.”

Padmé swallowed. She did know where. “I will meet Boss Nass at Ma-Urru,” she said, softly and steadily. “I did not know it was stolen. I should have expected it was. I do not wish it to be taken from you any longer.” More loudly, so that the onlookers could hear as well, she said, “We shall meet with the Gungans! When will Boss Nass be there?”

“He-sa there now,” Jar Jar said, as if it were obvious. “When will you-sa meet Boss Nass?”

Padmé closed her eyes. She knew what she had to say. She took a steadying breath, met Jar Jar’s gaze, and said, “Tomorrow.”

* * *

Predictably, nobody liked that.

In the end, Padmé took Jar Jar, her handmaidens, Captain Panaka, a hand-chosen security team, and nobody else. Panaka still didn’t like it, but since he—correctly—understood that Padmé would simply go on her own if he stopped her, he went along with it. The whole party fit into a single transport, and Jar Jar spent the entire flight pressed to a window exclaiming about the things he could see from it and talking about how no Gungan had flown like this before.

Padmé spent the whole flight (which was only an hour long) fielding complaints (and requests about what deals could be made) with the help of her handmaidens. It wavered between boring and stressful, but if she wanted her words to have any weight with the council after, she had to do it. When Panaka announced that they were landing in ten minutes, Padmé shut all the comms off with relief. “It’s time,” she said to her handmaidens, and sat still as they fixed her hair and make-up. It didn’t need to be perfect, but it had to say everything they needed it to.

As soon as they landed, a platoon of Gungan warriors surrounded them. Padmé looked to Jar Jar, who waved his hands in denial. “Honor guard! Very good, means Boss Nass respects you-sa!”

 _«He’s not wrong,»_ Berry said, amused. _«He’s also not mentioning the part where they can and will kill you if you threaten Boss Nass.»_

_«I got that, thanks.»_ Aloud, she simply said, “Captain? Array my honor guard, then.”

Captain Panaka bowed, and barked orders to his people. Padmé’s handmaidens arranged themselves around her: One on each side, and three behind. Padmé knew they all had hidden blasters, just as she herself did, and were comfortable using them—in theory, at least. None of them had yet used them outside of a practice range. Padmé hoped that stayed true today. As the guards took their places, she said, “We are _not_ going to engage in violence today. This is for show. Do you understand?”

A chorus of “Yes” and “Of course” and “Understood” echoed around her.

Padmé nodded. Everyone was in place; Captain Panaka stood beside Sabé, and he had been the one she’d been waiting on. Saché had pulled Jar Jar into a mirrored position on Padmé’s other side, and he looked no more awkward than usual there. Without a word, Padmé strode forward, trusting that the ramp would be lowered for her. As it opened with a hiss and Padmé descended, Captain Panaka called out in his parade voice, “The Queen, Padmé Amidala!”

Outside, there was a deep silence. Even the kaadu upon which the Gungans sat were silent, barely shifting as Padmé and her party emerged. At the mouth of Ma-Urru stood a Gungan in regal array, pointed hat and thick shoulder-pads emphasising the weight of his form. Even without Jar Jar’s hissed “That’s Boss Nass” or Berry’s silent familiarity, Padmé would’ve known who he was. All the good leaders she’d ever met had a similar look to them; confident, both in themselves and in how obvious it was that their people would follow them. Padmé just hoped that she could present even half as well.

As soon as her entire group was off the ramp, Padmé dropped to one knee in a deep bow and felt more than heard her handmaidens—and the rest of her people—follow her lead. “We thank you for meeting us,” she said clearly, “and we apologize that it has taken us this long to understand our imposition upon your world.”

Boss Nass harrumphed and shook his head, making a wet blubbery sound. “So! You-sa Queen Amidala. You-sa polite, I like you.”

Padmé raised her head, but did not stand. “I did not know what my people had taken from yours, Boss Nass. Please, as a sign of good-will—” she heard the faint buzz that meant Sabé, as they’d discussed, was recording and broadcasting her words “—allow me to return this place, which I know as Ma-Urru, the Royal Womb, to the Gungan people.”

“How we-sa know your words are true?” Boss Nass demanded, but his posture had changed. He wanted this. “You-sa could lie. You-sa people could come against your words.”

“We have broadcasting technology—” Padmé flicked a hand, and Sabé produced the portable comm unit “—and we shall say again, clearly, to any and all people listening: Padmé Amidala, Queen of Naboo, revokes all claim to the land known as Ma-Urru. It is to be known that the Gungans have sole custody of this space, and our visits to this land shall be solely under their purview.”

Padmé heard Captain Panaka’s comm start buzzing. He listened to it for a moment, then smiled crookedly and turned it to speaker mode: “—wish we had been consulted on this matter! But what’s done is done. Tell Queen Amidala she prepared well; we do have all the paperwork in order.” Governor Bibble seemed begrudgingly proud at that. “And— Ah. I see.” A faint echo came through with his words for a moment before being muted.

Governor Bibble cleared his throat before he continued speaking. “Well, if I am being broadcast as well, then let me be clear: Queen Amidala wishes justice and restitution for a people we have been heartlessly avoiding. We are a society who believes in ensuring all voices are heard, and who lifts up voices that others may not listen to. We have a young Queen for a reason, and so I, Governor Sio Bibble, join my voice to hers. Let the Gungans have Ma-Urru. It was theirs, and it should be theirs again.”

Captain Panaka’s comm turned off, and Padmé smiled at Boss Nass, who was clearly taken aback. “We are unsure what you know of our governing structure,” she said, voice soft in the silence. “But Governor Bibble is one of the highest-ranked officials in our government. He knew we wished to return as much to the Gungans as we could. He did not know that Ma-Urru was part of that.”

Boss Nass suddenly burst out with a deep belly laugh. “You-sa clever, Queen Amidala! I like you. I like you,” he repeated, and smiled. “It is a start. We shall talk.” He turned, and waved his hand imperiously for her to follow. His guards stayed behind, though a tall Gungan who Padmé was fairly certain was glaring at Jar Jar followed him, along with a handful of others.

Padmé gestured at her guards to stay where they were and followed him, with just her handmaidens and Captain Panaka for support. “You’re coming too,” she told Jar Jar, when he tried to sneak away into the Gungan circle. “You’re part of it too.”

“Me-sa?” he echoed, but he didn’t resist as Panaka pulled him along. “Really?”

“You came and talked to us,” Padmé said. “This wouldn’t have happened without you.”

Jar Jar went silent, digesting that, as Padmé entered Ma-Urru once more.

This, she thought, would be a very different kind of beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> This end note is long and more serious than I tend to be, but the political aspect of this story is such that I want to talk a little about media in conversation with real-world events. (A note, for anyone who reads this story later: I wrote this story May-June 2020.)
> 
> The politics of this story got more real the longer into the writing period it became, due to real life circumstances. This story was always going to include "Gungans deserve better", but it hadn't been such a prominent element until, well. Everything. While Gungans more closely parallel indigenous people than Black people, they were still a minority group often played for laughs in the Prequel Trilogy, and that gives them parallels to many minority groups in real life. I wanted something other than war to bring them to a place where they thought they could make a treaty with the land-bound (and primarily human) colonizers of Naboo, and give them back a place of power that matters to them.
> 
> I am a white person living in the northeastern USA. I am living on unceded land that my ancestors colonised and stole (if you want to learn whose land you live upon, [this website](https://native-land.ca/) is a good starting point.). My people (especially the federal government!) might be shit at restitution and reconciliation, but I can write Padmé being better as a reminder of the path we should take. Indigenous people are often treated poorly by the colonizing cultures who took over their lands, and not given enough say. (I wrote another scene, after this, where Padmé removes Sheev from his post as Senator due to Sheev being a racist asshole who didn't want to serve with a Gungan alongside him as junior senator, because that _is_ one of the next steps they need to take. Sheev doesn't take it kindly, of course, and I ran out of time to write the ways this changes the blockade, but that had been my intention.) Padmé's path is easier than ours, because she's the Queen and also I do think that Naboo culture—even as colonizers—values compassion and equality, and I wanted that to be portrayed in a positive light because I am very sad and tired about the politics I personally live within. 
> 
> On a slightly different note, Gungan speech is weird to write. I struggled for a while about what elements I had to include in order to maintain the sound as presented throughout Star Wars media and what parts I could drop to make it less fraught with yet more racism. The balance I ended up with is partially due to how many non-English languages have affixes that mark formality, and "-sa" being a suffix on pronouns that marks formality/distance (similar to French tu/vous) is functional. As well, a lot of languages don't have I/me as separate words (see Chinese, for instance). Gungan dialect has clearly had plenty of time to drift from Galactic Standard; honestly, the fact that they speak it at all is kind of weird. Gungans have such a separate culture that they should have their own language.
> 
> Maybe they do, but learned Galactic Standard out of necessity. Maybe the dialect of Galactic Standard they speak with non-Gungans is because they've been keeping tabs on the (mostly-human) population of Naboo and the artifacts of the Gungan dialect show where the strongest bits of the Gungan language itself shine through. There's no way to tell what the intention was—I've almost certainly put more thought into this than the original writers—but this theory would be reasonably congruent with how human languages work. (Star Wars has never been good with making true conlangs, as opposed to simply "Here's a couple phrases of alien-seeming language for flavor". I think Mando'a comes closest, but even then I suspect a lot of the words/grammar comes from the fans, not the original writers.)
> 
> Less seriously: This was really fun to write! Time travel is tricky, and I really enjoyed working out how I wanted this story to work. The first scene popped into my head nearly fully formed in feeling if not in precise words, and the rest flowed fairly naturally from there. I hope you enjoyed reading it!


End file.
